


The Abandoned

by Sqwirlgrl



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Amnesia, Apples, Arthurian, Collaboration, Fantasy, Gen, Historical Fantasy, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, Magical Realism, Medieval Medicine, Priestesses, Telekinesis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 05:21:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13540581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sqwirlgrl/pseuds/Sqwirlgrl
Summary: When Gala wakes up in a hostile castle, Marked and suffering the effects of amnesia, she knows nothing about who she is or why the inhabitants seem so wary of her. She has no choice but to accept the help of Aston, a charming stranger with unknown motives. With Aston as a guide, Gala must now reclaim her sacred role and start her new life as one of the Abandoned.





	The Abandoned

"You wake up in a dimly lit room. Luckily the rising sun in the window allows you to see a simple meal placed nearby. You haven't eaten in days."

\------------------------------------

When I open my eyes, the only detail that I'm conscious of at first is relative darkness. There are no lit candles or lamps, but as my eyes adjust and my thoughts swim into focus the watery light of dawn allows me to see the food nearby. My stomach is twisting in hunger.

I regard the food suspiciously, but nothing about it reveals a clue as to who could have put it there and I'm too dizzy to think clearly now. Deciding that I'll die of starvation before I can get poisoned, I start demolishing the food.

It is fresher than I expect, the meat still warm and the water still cool. 

I'm still ravenous but it takes the edge off and my vision isn't fuzzy any longer so I stand up to look out the window to see if I recognize where I am.

My weary legs suggest protest at first, but are stable. I look out over a vast forest. I am several stories off the ground. The air is brisker than I am dressed for. Constant movement will edge out the discomfort. I am in an inside corner room, and two castle walls stretch out along my peripherals. Long thin flags billow, too far to pick out detail.

I cross back to the first of two doors to check the lock and find out whether I'm being kept here or not. This door is locked, but old. The wood is starting to separate despite its iron rivets. As I examine the door, I hear the sound of a parcel sliding and a latch shutting from the other door. Upon turning around, I see a canvas wrapped parcel on the floor and retreating shadows under the door. The sun rises over the tops of the trees.

I turn around to examine the rest of the room now that my eyes have adjusted and the room is brighter, before bending down to take the parcel. My room feels more like a hastily put together guest room than a jail cell. It is scarcely decorated. The bed I slept on was only a table with blankets piled on it. There are several well-used candles around the room and a few empty racks suggest it may have been a supply room prior to my stay. The parcel is roughly the size and shape of a rucksack, and I hear metal clinking as I lift. It is covered in thicker canvas, like a boat sail, wrapped around an order of objects.

I pull back the flaps, revealing a light tunic. Inside are a healthy supply of dried meat, a compass, a canteen, and a dagger. Confirmed conviction: challenge accepted. They seem to think I know my path home. Wondering who would lock me in a room if they clearly intend for me to travel, it occurs to me that they may have been trying to keep something or someone else out while I slept. Before testing the second door, not knowing what's on the other side, I strip off the flimsy top I was wearing, hoping no one chooses that moment to come in and slightly wishing there were curtains. Before pulling the tunic on over my head, I notice how dirty I am and that my ribs are showing. I feel a little less exposed and warmer in the sturdy tunic, but I wish the blade were a little bigger. Stowing the discarded garment in the bag with the other supplies, I grip the dagger over-hand, ready to use, and test the lock on the second door.

The door is stiff, but open. On the other side is a long hallway with many arcs and doors that lead further into the castle on the right and many windows and archer slots facing out into the woods. The hallway is silent and empty. As I walk down the hallway, I can see the center square of the castle through many of the arches. However, my view is obscured by a line of silent guards, facing out and away from me. Were they there just for me? Along their ranks stand a few normal men. In the distance, I can spy a few men on balconies watching me.

I freeze when I realize I'm being watched, but instantly my mind sums up the fact that I've been given food and supplies and placed in an unlocked room, meaning that if whoever put me there intended for me to die it would have happened already. Nevertheless, I step close beside an arch out of the view of the staring men, not being of a persuasion to trust men who make it a habit to sit and stare at people. I conceal the hand with the dagger inside my tunic, not willing to be without it but not wanting to approach a guard armed. 

Sounds from the marketplace echo into the hallway. From down the hall, I hear the door to my previous room close and lock. Knowing I can't go back now, I approach one of the men in the line of guards and touch his shoulder, ready to deflect a sword strike, intending to ask him what the hell is going on.

"Ma'am I'm sorry, this area is off-limits to the Abandoned. It would be in your best interest to head home." The guard repeats himself more adamantly, making no aggressive gesture, perhaps even growing unsteady. "Ma'am, I'm sorry! You cannot come past here! Please begin your journey home."

I hear him but my thoughts are elsewhere. Something he said has triggered something unpleasant. The Abandoned? I don't like that word. I don't know why, but it brings to mind a feeling of forgotten pain, like the memory of a cut, once so vivid. But he is clearly being made uncomfortable by my presence, and I know enough not to look for trouble where none is found. I relax the grip on my dagger, tucking it into my under wrappings before thanking him and moving on, trying to look unconcerned while I try to figure out where the hell home is supposed to be. My first instinct is to head to the marketplace and get lost in the confusion of bodies and voice, and to listen for what can be heard. But I can't get that word out of my head: Abandoned.

As I near the end of the hallway I see a set of stairs. A brisk draft of fresh air is palpable now. The guards watch me move slowly down the hallway. The looks on their trained faces hardly hides their uncertainty of me, but a subdued one: I'm not the first they've seen. One is trying to focus through a sneezing fit. The guard next to him widening up to fill the gap. Uncomfortable with their staring and curiosity, and fed up with being the only one without any answers, I pick up my pace and march briskly down the steps. I'm irritated by the fact that my legs are still shaking. Weakness has always irritated me. I need to go find some more food and some answers. The updraft from the stairs whips my hair around my face as I come upon the scene below.

At the bottom, two guards wait to close the heavy wooden doors behind me. Fallen leaves curl around their feet and swirl at the bottom of the stairs. Soon it's only the three of us. My echoing footsteps on the stone don't mask the sound of the other guards left behind, beginning to stir and hesitantly resume normal duty. I look around, blinking in the morning sunlight.

A well worn path stretches before me. Carts and horses have carved deep grooves in the soil. The trees are still mostly green, with highlights, freckles, and streaks of fiery rust. The wood is dense, but not imposingly dark. The trees have been cut back about 30 meters from the castle walls. There's no moat, but an earthen mound snakes the perimeter. Looking back, I'm outside the corner of the square castle. I can see back to where I stayed in the corner where a wing meets the square. The guards slave against the heavy doors. The main cart path just ahead turns clumsily to my right, towards the center of the main wall of the castle. A man's voice comes from behind me.

"You're smarter than the other ones. I've seen many, many people try to fight the guards, almost put me out of a job."

A man in slightly worn clothing is leaning against the side of the stone stairs, eating an apple. He uncrosses his legs and walks casually towards you. "Not that it pays much, or anything." He flicks the apple core. "But I'll never pass up a chance to help. Aston."

He continues without waiting for a reply. "You don't have to trust me, or accept my help, but if you're going more than a three days' journey, you're not gonna make it with what they gave you." He nods down the road and tosses another apple in your direction.

I jump a step back, angry at myself for coming down the stairs and gawking like an idiot without realizing that he was behind me. My hand jumps to the little dagger again reflexively, but I don't draw. Of the thousand questions I have for the stranger, I blurt out the dumbest one: "How did you know they gave me anything?"

"Well, you're not the first. We find people like you all the time. And this is what we do. That whole hallway... the hallway you just came down. I'm the only one that seems to remember you're people." The apple hits the ground.

"If you want to go to the market, you have to go with me, and you have to stay with me; they won't let you in with the..." he motions to my neck "...unless you're with me."

I automatically look down and bring a hand to my neck, looking for what he was pointing at.

The skin between the two points of my collarbone has a circular mark. The roughness is akin to a fresh scar or burn. It is the tiniest bit sensitive. Aston does not react to my surprise, much as though he were used to such things. "Don't worry, I promise, you'll get in..." He presents both sides of both hands before slowly pulling the front collar of your tunic up to cover the mark. One of his hands is completely wrapped in a well-worn bandage. "But I can't promise to keep you safe."

I reach out and put a hand on his arm before he can walk away. It isn't like me to be this forward or to put my trust in a stranger, much less a man, but he's the only one who has offered me any answers or any help. I need to know.

"Aston, what is going on? I woke up this morning in a room I didn't recognize and nothing has made any sense since then. One of the guards called me something- Abandoned. Tell me. What does that mean?" Why can't I shake the feeling that I don't want to know the answer, even as I ask the question?

Aston pulls on my hand to encourage me to walk with him. "There's not much to tell, but you're asking the only person who will tell. It happens all the time. We find people like you in the woods. Same spot. Same mark every time. After it started happening more regularly, they commissioned this hall for their stay. You all wake up after a week. Started to give people the spooks. People started to attack them. It got so out of hand. So the king ordered that the Abandoned be kept out of the market. Some of the Abandoned started to act strange, and people felt it was justified. I never did. I'd go mad too if I didn't remember anything. So, I have a special arrangement with the guards. Sometimes a walk in the market is enough to jog you into remembering where you need to go. Which I assume is home." Aston leads you towards the main gate of the castle along the road. "Again, I only assume. If you're set to go, it may not be advisable to risk the witch hunt...I'm sorry, I don't mean to scare you. Just been a while since a sane Abandoned actually used the door."

My head is swimming again and it isn't from hunger. So much to take in. Sane? Would I start acting strangely too? What happened to me? I allow myself to be led by his gentle but reassuringly firm grip on my hand, but I had just one more important question. "Why are you the only one who will talk about it? Why are you helping me at all? What do you get out of this- and how are you involved with us?" even as I said it, it felt strange to say "us" when I had only just found out that I belonged in any category. Finding out that I was... marked... like that, it was changing my thinking. I didn't like it.

My head takes a strong swim to the right. "Whoa...easy...you'll be dizzy for a bit." He pulls out another apple and offers it to you. "I'm just here to help. I guess as a warning, everyone else thinks you're cursed. I've...been convinced otherwise... but don't worry, you don't owe me, I'm not idealistic enough to think I'll see you again after today."

Idealistic? What did he mean by that? What does he expect is going to happen to me? I am aware enough to sense that there is a story hiding behind his words but the lightheadedness was getting worse and it's all I can do to keep from putting my whole weight against him entirely to continue standing upright. I struggle through the haze to maintain the conversation and keep him talking. "Why am I so dizzy?" I hate even admitting out loud that I'm feeling weak but he's been kind enough to help and I'm not fooling anyone leaning on his arm this heavily as I sway.

"That's why we're going to sit. "

Aston sits me down next to him on the stairs leading into the main gate of the castle. "And you're going to eat this." Apple. "And I'm sorry, but I just don't know...I'm just here to help you on your way. What do you remember?" All of Aston's actions have a resonance that he's done all this many times before. As I sit there, I get a better chance to behold the man. He's not poorly dressed, but his clothes are far from new. His left hand presents the apple. My head is starting to slow its swimming as I sit on the stairs.

" I'd like you to take me to the market. I have no place else to go. I don't know where home is." I had first realized this when the guard told me to go home, but had ignored it at the time. Realizing that I didn't know where I was from had deeply unsettled me.

" Well then, I'm not allowed to buy anything myself, so here's your allowance."

He hands me a fairly generous portion of coins. "I've more if you need. If you're ready, welcome to Islingard." Aston stands and offers a hand to lead me in. People walking up and down the stairs pay no attention to the two of us as they head into and out of the marketplace. I wonder how they'd treat me if they knew I was Abandoned.

"I thought I was the one they wouldn't like. Why aren't you allowed to buy anything?"

"Part of the deal." Aston walks behind me as I approach the archway into the market. I see several capable guards checking each person entering. As we get closer, I see people are pulling the fronts of their tunics down to expose their collarbones. Aston points over my shoulder with his now partially unwrapped right hand. The guard on the right does not appear any more forgiving than the others. We file into line and Aston stands confidently, almost comfortingly close behind.

"Forgive me, my lady, this has been known to sting a bit."

The guard looks to me. Hesitantly, I pull the front of my tunic down and see the guard's trained eyes flicker for a split second. Before the guard moves a muscle, Aston reaches around me from behind and covers the Mark with his completely unwrapped right hand. The touch takes me by surprise. It does sting a bit, only like pressing onto a freshly healed wound. The guard straightens up a little and nods for us to enter. Aston guides me gently through the archway. Looking down, I catch a glimpse of a strange wound on the back of Aston's hand before he pulls it away. Perhaps a brand? He wraps it immediately.

My heart is beating hard, both from the anxiety of exposing the mark and the sudden unexpected contact. But a look to Aston shows he clearly does not share my awkwardness from the fleeting but relatively intimate pose. As expected, he's clearly done this before for others. But done what? "Aston, what did you just do?"

He secures the bandage back in place with a knot which he tightens with his teeth. Speaking through them, he answers simply, "I got you into the market."

The market is surprisingly bustling, considering how isolated the forest makes the castle seem. Islingard is well lit in the mid-day sun. Around the cobblestone market square is a series of shops and houses. On each balcony are guards and upper class men. I remember making eye-contact with a few of them as I was escorted out. The smell of animals, cooking meat, smelting metal, and rustic autumn fills the air.

He spits out a corner of the cloth that got bitten off by accident. "I used the special deal I made so I can help you. Now, I can't buy anything and you have to stay close to me. But other than that," he follows up his statement with a sweeping gesture, "Welcome to Islingard."

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written in a Dungeons and Dragons style format, back and forth between two authors. My husband acts as DM, he sets up the quest and my character responds. He later takes on responsibility for Aston's character as well. Therefore, every other paragraph you see here was written by a different author. I have merged them together and changed the tense and perspective to form a strictly first-person narrative. (While I have tried to edit very carefully, if there's anywhere that I've missed and it says "you" or "your" when it should say "I", please let me know!)
> 
> The entire story thus far was written by being texted back and forth on a Gchat interface and an iPhone keypad, respectively. We've had a lot of fun writing our little literary "spar", and it has helped me while away many a soul-crushing hour at my former retail job in RadioShack. While we have enough material right now to keep us in updates for quite a few weeks, the story has not yet concluded and is still being written. Please enjoy our story! – Gala & Kanoa


End file.
